The Death of Severin Torsten
by Midnight Bleu
Summary: not related to this fandom at all. i beg pardon. it is here because it is my first time doing this and i didn't know where to put it. forgive me and please don't judge the story by my idiocy/naivete


"I'm pretty sure that we're not supposed to do that" whispered Severin nervously to his twin brother Dietmar.

Dietmar snorted in scorn, rounding on his brother to retort "what are you, chicken?"

To which Severin responded with a scowl of his own "No!"

"Well prove it!"

"I will!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Tonight's dessert and the sapphire pin I got for our birthday says you won't"

"You're on!" they spat on their hands and shook, sealing the deal.

With that settled, the boys were eager to get the task over and done with. Running down the winding marble staircase, they brushed past their mother and the Sultan going over a long list of laws that were still being processed through the council. All they received from that encounter was a vague "slow down boys" delivered by their mother without any inflection and never lifting her eyes from the scroll. Glancing at each other, they exchanged a mild look of disgust, before continuing to barrel headlong down the stairs. Upon reaching ground level they met their older brother, still in his riding clothes, a riding crop at his side. He looked positively furious and not a bit disheveled.

"That _damn_ Octavius, who the _hell_ does he think he is, waltzing in there and stealing my thunder. What is he? Some kind of equestrian magician of some sort! Ha! More likely, he bribed the groom to let him get in extra practice hours, sneaky, dishonest _bastards_ the lot of them…."

Looking up he caught the twins staring at him with something akin to respect.

"Ahem" he cleared his throat "hey guys" he said scratching his neck awkwardly "umm, I'll just be off now. Keep doing...whatever it is you're doing" and here he pinned a suspicious glare on them "what _are_ you doing?"

The twins lowered their gazes and shuffled around a bit more, scuffing their shoes on the polished marble floor. **The maids aren't going to like that** Dietmar thought idly.

Faced with the sudden muteness of the twins, Leo emitted a frustrated sound. "gah! Keep your bloody secret! See if I care!" with that he spun on his heel and stalked off, still mumbling about that "_damn_ _Octavius_" and stubborn brothers who had a propensity for being dumb as well as deaf.

The twins exhaled with relief and quickly slipped out the door before they could be seen by any other people. Getting across the large lawn quickly became a contest when Dietmar shouted with glee "last one to the stables is a stinky cowpat!" The boys raced across the green, occasionally whooping and hollering out taunts. With racing hearts the boys both hit the stable door at the same time.

Panting and gulping down air Dietmar challenged Severin "I so won that"

"And Leo and Tavius are best of friends" he retorted scornfully

They both glared at each other until Dietmar's lip began to twitch. Both boys collapsed into laughter and gasping Dietmar said "you got me there, bro"

They quieted when they heard the soft nicker of the horses within and Severin abruptly became sober, appearing to have remembered his side of the deal. Dietmar whispered to him "all you have to do, is take this snake…" and he pulled a rubber snake out of his pocket and handed it to his brother "…and put it in his feeding trough, when he goes to eat, he'll see it and spook, that should ruin him for the day. Octavius will pitch a fit!"

"That's all?" Severin asked nervously

"That's all." His brother assured him "get in; get out…unless you're scared" he added

Severin gave him a baleful glare and with as much courage as he could muster he said "let's do this"

The boys stealthily crept into the stables and quickly located the stallion's stall. He was a frisky Arabian beauty named Zidad. The Sultan had gotten him for her son on his last birthday for an outrageous sum. The Shah had disapproved, saying that none of the royal children needed such extravagant gifts; the Sultan had blown her off declaring that she would spend her money however she wished. The Shah then tactfully neglected to inform her that it was their money. They did not speak for a week. The Shah's sons remained jealous as they knew for sure that their mother (nor their father) would ever "waste" that much on them.

Zidad was Octavius' pride and he loved him with the special bond that only existed between a horse and his boy. In return Zidad was very picky and only let Octavius touch him, the grooms were glad of this because the horse spooked easily and _BIT_. In this foolhardy plan to scare the horse Dietmar and Severin were alone. they felt it justice to avenge themselves on Octavius because he had gotten something they all envied.

Stealthily slipping the latch off the stall's door, Dietmar motioned his brother in. Severin steeled himself and dashed into the stall. Dozing on its feet the horse barely noticed them, until Severin banged his hip on the feeding trough, releasing an involuntary yelp. Dietmar frantically gestured for him to shut up but the damage had already been done. Zidad lazily opened his eyes, vaguely wondering what the small human was doing in his stall. And then his eyes focused on the snake dangling from Severin's hand, they widened in diameter and with a crazy whiny he raised his hoofs from the floor once- twice-three times. Dietmar called out at his brother to "move! Run! Do something!"

As if awakening from a spell, Severin unfroze and made a dash for the stall door. The horse's hooves came towards the ground for the fourth time and with deadly accuracy crushed the skull of the fleeing Severin. Dietmar screamed, a wild, piercing banshee yell. He scarce noticed when the horse galloped past the open stall door, across his left leg and out the stable door, so focused was he on reaching his brother.

He screamed again and again "Help! Help! Somebody help!" then his mind caught up with the tremendous pain in his leg and he fainted, slumped over the body of his brother.

When he came to, he did not know where he was. Looking around he saw that he lay on a hospital bed, an IV dripping blood and other liquids into his wrist. His leg was in a heavy cast and suspended at a 45 degree angle in front of him. His father sat in a seat close to his bed, asleep. His face looked tired and drawn and he was snoring softly. His mother was, as usual nowhere to be found. And then he remembered Severin's body lying on the floor, his neck at an odd angle and the blood seeping from his dismantled skull. He dearly hoped that he was alright and that his mother was with him. A nurse walked through the door. She halted; seemingly surprised that he was awake. Getting over her surprise, she strode to his father's side and gave him a firm shake "your highness?" another shake. "Your highness?"

The prince came awake with a jolt. His hand brushed back his hair and he murmured a soft thanks to the nurse. She nodded crisply and went about her business. The father leans towards the son and takes his hand. He asks him "how're you feeling?" Dietmar wondered what to say to that, how do you tell your parent that you were worried that you may have inadvertently caused your sibling to be wounded badly. "Fine, I guess" Dietmar replied. **Yes, "fine" would work.** The prince sighed and sat back in his seat. He was worried, the Shah had not come to tell him anything but when he had left his other son to come be with Dietmar, he was not in good shape at all and the _bloody _doctors were already making their _bloody _excuses and vague predictions.

Silence reigned in the hospital room for and indefinable period of time. Robert was considering asking Dietmar if he was hungry, when the Shah stepped in the room. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her nails were bitten to the quick, a habit-he remembered-she had beaten in her youth. Meeting his eyes, she gave him a slight shake of her head. His body began to tremble and his heart beat faster. Denial pumped through his veins. He had_ seen_ his son, he wasn't in good shape, granted but he was_ alive_. Only now…he wasn't. With his heart in his throat, he opened his arms and the Shah flew into them, burying her face in his chest. Her hot tears were already wetting his shirt, His running down her hair.

Dietmar sat up quickly when he saw his mother's face. _Never_ in his life had he ever seen her discomposed like this. His heart beat faster, **what had happened to Severin?** He couldn't very well ask his parents because they were locked in a tight embrace and were –oh God- they were _crying._ He grew even more panicked, his eyes searching for someone, _anyone _to tell him what had happened to his twin. His roving eyes landed on the Sultan, who stood in the doorway with wet eyes.

The Sultan was crying. She was well and truly _crying_. She may sometimes curse the Shah, and did wish that she would hurry up and die so she could have the throne. Whatever she had wished upon the Shah in the past, she hadn't wished _this._ The pain of losing a child was something that she wouldn't wish on her greatest enemy because she knew just how much it hurt. For although no one knew it she had lost a child of her own, and the pain resurfaced when she watched the Shah and her husband mourn in each others embrace. **If only Daniel and I had been like that when we lost _,** she thought wistfully. Closer she meant, more dependent on each other but he had developed a drinking habit and she had fled to Colin and Watson for comfort. Sighing again she turned her eyes from the mourning couple and saw the other son, his eyes wide, alert and filled with desperation. He reached out a hand to her and she came forward and took it. He asked in a painful voice "he's dead, isn't he?" swallowing with difficulty she nodded yes once-twice. "He's dead" he repeated "I killed him" The sultan drew back and looked at the boy, he spoke with the utmost seriousness "I killed him" and the tears began... they streamed down his face in rivulets. "It was just a stupid dare" he said crying "a stupid dare! He wasn't supposed to go off and _die_" and the sobbing began in earnest. The sultan, at a loss glanced towards his parents who were still trapped in their private grief that they didn't notice that of their son's. With a final look at his parents, she drew Dietmar into her bosom, rocking him, mourning with this poor boy who had lost his brother and his parents in one day and believed it to be his fault. And they cried, her for her lost child and this poor parent-less boy and he, for his dead brother…the one that he had doomed to death.

It was a sad and dreary day, the day they buried Severin Torsten of the Royal house of Ululatus Lupi (the howling wolf). The people of the kingdom ceased work and hung the white of mourning from every window. Those that were citizens of the capital city watched the royal procession, the dark ebony casket borne by 12 pallbearers led by the two princes of the kingdom. The procession was led by the Shah, her demeanor cold, strong and stately but if you looked deep enough you would observe the spirit of a woman who just wanted her child back. Following behind her was the Sultan, for once not smiling or giving out things to win the favor of the people. They presented a unified front of monarchy. It said to the people "yes. we often fight over ridiculous things –and the throne-but at this time of mourning we know enough to pull together and support each other" After these came the pallbearers and the rest of the royal court arrayed behind them ironically like a bridal train, but this was no happy event they were headed to. In the midst of this royal paraphernalia, if you but look closely you will see a face that eerily resembles that of the dead boy, but with sunken cheek bones and a gaunt, haunted look to him. This same boy stood like a shadow beside his parents as his brother was lowered into the hole. He scarcely looked up when his mother placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder and he did not move from that spot when the rest of the party returned to the palace. He stood there peering at the grave, the headstone: strong granite, inlaid with turquoise stones. **His favorite color**, he thought absently. And with that the grief resurfaced afresh. **His favorite color**, his mind repeated, numb. His brother wasn't _alive_ to have a favorite color. With that thought Dietmar fell in front of the tombstone, crying –a tombstone no matter how pretty or impressive would not bring back his brother. He knew-he had dispatched him, himself. When the clouds broke open and poured rain, the boy still knelt there, like a forgotten wraith. A mere shadow of the boy that he used to be.


End file.
